


In the Service of the Queen

by Tanaqui



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/F, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: Since her brother’s death before the Black Gate, Éowyn has ruled as Queen of Rohan. With the crown come challenges and complications — but also compensations.
Relationships: Éowyn (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Little Black Dress Exchange 2020





	In the Service of the Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whalebone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/gifts).



> Thanks to my usual beta.

“My Lady Wraithbane!” From a spear’s throw to her right, the loud voice boomed across the slope towards Éowyn. “May I beg the honour of riding out with you this morning?”

Éowyn gritted her teeth for a moment, before composing her face into a pleasant smile and turning to greet the owner of the braying tones. “Lord Aldamir. My regrets.” She gestured to the newly formed _éored_ wheeling in ragged patterns on the sunny slope below. “As you can see, I am engaged in overseeing the training of our latest recruits. Perhaps this afternoon, when my other duties allow.”

Aldamir smiled more widely. “Oh, I am sure you can leave such matters in the capable hands of your First Marshal.” He gave a small bow in the direction of the rider at Éowyn’s side.

Éowyn kept her smile steady, but her tone was a little cooler as she answered. “I could, yes. But it is a task I prefer to attend to myself at this stage in their training.” When Aldamir opened his mouth to object further, she added, “My esquire, Brytta, will go with you, if you like. He can show you a shady track through the willow-meads besides the Snowbourn that will be pleasant in this heat.” She gestured for the boy waiting a few horse-lengths behind her to ride forward.

He did so, bringing his horse around until he was alongside Aldamir. “This way, my Lord.”

Aldamir looked like he was about to object again, but apparently thought better of it. He inclined his head. “I shall count the minutes until I see you again, my Lady Queen.” He set his heels to his horse, startling it forward into a canter. Éowyn caught the brief look of disgust on Brytta’s face at the treatment of the horse, before the boy nudged his own mount into following Aldamir at a more sedate pace. She must remember to thank him later — while she was questioning him as to what Aldamir had said. Probably nothing of any importance, but perhaps there would be something she could use as a reason to send him away.

Apart, of course, from the obvious. Any young noble of Gondor or Arnor who wished to become consort to the Queen of Rohan would need, at the very least, to understand she had a kingdom to care for.

She returned her attention to the riders on the slope below, but her mind drifted away to the only man who had understood that. And because he had understood it and what it would require of _him_ — to abandon Gondor and his own responsibilities — the tentative understanding growing between them had been doomed from the moment she had learned of her brother’s death before the Black Gate.

At her side, Hild went on watching the riders below them intently but, out of the side of her mouth, she murmured, “Shall I go after him and ensure he meets with an... unfortunate accident?”

Éowyn laughed. “Tempting, but no. We really do need to return these foolish boys unharmed. Though I think I should send a discreet message to the Steward to ask him if there is _any_ way he can prevent them from coming in the first place. Or if he can recommend some candidates that don’t make me want to send them back within a day of them arriving. Perhaps one of his cousins or one of the King’s kin from the North? They must have some sense about what I need. Or can have some talked into them.”

Below them, the lines of riders still wavered, as some horses too eagerly outpaced their fellows and others shortened their stride too much. Hild grimaced. “We should split them up and work them in smaller groups, until they can control their paces better,” she suggested.

“Agreed.” Éowyn led the way down the slope.

oOo

At noon, with the day’s heat already starting to grow unbearable, Éowyn and Hild left the recruits to picket their horses under the watchful eye of some of the more experienced members of Hild’s _éored_ , and walked their horses slowly back to the almost deserted royal stables, letting them cool as they went.

Éowyn was quiet and Hild knew better than to fill the silence with idle chatter at such times. When they reached the stables, Éowyn waved away the groom loitering by the entrance. He was half-expecting as much: Éowyn always preferred to tend to her own horse if she had the time. 

Leading Windfola into her stall, Éowyn was glad to note that Aldamir’s horse was still absent. She hoped Brytta had had the sense to lead him a long way from Edoras before suggesting they turn back.

The rhythmic work of removing Windfola’s tack and grooming her, murmuring to her softly as she worked, soothed Éowyn a little. But she was still turning over the problem of Aldamir — and all the other unsuitable lords who had courted her — as she picked up Windfola’s saddle and bridle from their temporary place on the stall partition and carried them into the tack store. Sliding the saddle onto the rack, she rested her hands on it and bent her head and sighed.

“There is still much to do, but they were a little improved by the end, I think.” Hild hung Swiftfoot’s bridle next to Windfola’s.

“They were. But it was not that I was sighing over.” Éowyn shook her head and puffed out another breath. “I must get me an heir and time is beginning to run short.” It was six — no, seven years since her brother had died and her childbearing years were fleeting past. “But the bloodstock in these parts has been sadly lacking.”

Hild stepped up behind her and rested her hands lightly on Éowyn’s shoulders. “If he can breed strong limbs and a strong heart, does it matter if he lacks wit?”

Another sigh. “If I thought I could train him to obedience....”

Hild stepped closer, her grip tightening a little. “You are too tense, my Queen.” Her breath whispered against Éowyn’s neck, stirring the strands of sweat-dampened hair that had escaped from Éowyn’s braids. “But I know an excellent cure for that... if her Grace permits?” 

She brushed a kiss against Éowyn’s neck, stepping still closer and sliding her hands down Éowyn’s shoulders until she could slip them around her waist and pull Éowyn’s body against hers.

Éowyn straightened, leaning back into Hild’s embrace, drawing in another breath, but this one deep and slow, as Hild’s lips teased her skin. Hild’s hands drifted upwards, over the light mailcoat that Éowyn wore, coming to rest over Éowyn’s breasts, pressed flat under layers of mail and padded gambeson.

“A most excellent and efficacious cure,” Hild continued, her hands moving on to the buckle on the topmost strap of Éowyn's mail coat.

Éowyn drew in another deep breath and another, the heat blooming within her at Hild’s touch — and then, regretfully, lifted her hands to cover Hild’s and still them. “Someone might come in.”

Hild shrugged. “And if they do? You can always order them out....”

Éowyn smiled to herself. “But I do not believe your cure would be quite so... efficacious if I was distracted by such possibilities. Would this remedy not be best administered in the privacy of my chamber? And as I must change my clothes for the noon-meal and the court-moot afterwards, I believe it would be most expedient, Marshal, for you to accompany me there at once to provide your... counsel.”

“As you wish, my Queen.” Hild planted a quick kiss behind Éowyn’s ear and then stepped back. This time, Éowyn’s sigh held a hint of frustratation, but she turned and swept past Hild without another look. In truth, she dared not catch the other woman's eye in case Hild could read how very much Éowyn wished they were already somewhere they would not be disturbed.

The distance to her chamber seemed endless: up the short, steep ascent to the gates of Edoras and then the long climb up the many steps to the top of the terrace and the doors of Meduseld, and on down the whole length of the great hall, waving away this man or that who would speak to her, until she reached the bower behind the high seat. At every step, with Hild a warm presence just behind her, she could not help but remember the many ways in which Hild was skilled at attending her and feel the growing ache between her thighs.

Reaching her chamber, she waved away the maid who hovered inside. “I can dress myself, Edith. The Marshal and I have matters to discuss.”

It was almost a relief when, the moment the bower door closed and they were once more alone, Hild caught her around the waist and drew their bodies close again. Her hands were soon busy with the buckles and straps of Éowyn’s mail, while her lips resumed their gentle teasing of the skin of Éowyn’s neck.

Éowyn leaned back into her, shivers running through her body at the gentleness of Hild’s lips, even as she trusted to the strength of Hild’s body. The mail was all undone, now. Hild drew it open and began to loosen the ties securing Éowyn’s gambeson.

Éowyn twisted her neck, seeking Hild’s lips with her own, and awkwardly captured the corner of Hild’s mouth. She began to turn in Hild’s arms, but Hild broke the half-kiss. “Patience, Lady,” she chided softly.

The last of the ties came unknotted and Hild peeled away the sweat-dampened layers of the gambeson from Éowyn’s fine linen undershirt. “Too many layers,” Éowyn muttered crossly. “Perhaps tomorrow I should go riding naked.”

Hild’s laughter tickled her neck. “There is a sight I would enjoy. With your hair let down to hide your nakedness from prying eyes?” She stroked a finger along one of the braids that bound Éowyn’s hair back from her face. “But I would rather keep your charms to myself.” She slid her hands up under Éowyn’s shirt, her fingertips drawing sparks of flame as they caressed the slight swell of Éowyn’s stomach and then pushed on up to cup her breasts.

Éowyn sighed deeply and allowed herself to lean back into Hild’s embrace, shudders running through her as the other woman teased her already proud nipples into even harder peaks. 

“These beauties I would not share,” Hild whispered in her ear. “Nor this.” She slid one hand down Éowyn’s stomach, and then further down, working her fingers under the edge of Éowyn’s woollen overtrousers and linen braies, and then still further down, until one eager finger made its way between Éowyn’s hot, damp folds to find the nub that had been aching for Hild’s skilled touch since Hild had first put her arms around Éowyn in the stables.

Éowyn let out quivering gasp after quivering gasp as Hild’s cunning fingertip moved over her and over her and over her and as the fierce heat grew in her belly. Her knees grew weak and she lifted her arms to fling them awkwardly around Hild’s neck, fearful of falling — and yet wanting to fall — and yet not wanting to fall too soon. Nor for the ecstasy towards which Hild was driving her to ever end.

“Wait, my Lady, wait,” Hild murmured, her rhythm slowing, her touch turning gentler but deeper, though that itself was almost the undoing of Éowyn. Then she was turning Éowyn so they were face to face, though she never let up with the wicked, maddening, agonising teasing of her finger that Éowyn craved with all her body. She was backing them up now, towards the great bed, her other hand dragging Éowyn’s overtrousers and braies down, before she pushed her back onto the bed. Éowyn’s hands, flung wide to steady herself, found the rich embroidery of the coverlet and the fine wool of the dress Edith had laid out earlier for her to change into, though she was scarcely aware of the rough or the smooth, save that it mingled with the sharp waves of pleasure that Hild’s relentless finger was drawing from her.

And then Hild’s finger was replaced with the soft warmth of her lips and tongue and Éowyn cried out quietly, leaning back and thrusting her hips towards Hild for more and more and yes and yes.

Dimly, Éowyn was aware of Hild’s rhythm growing a little ragged and knew Hild’s hand was between her own legs, her finger now helping herself to her own pleasure. Once, in the early days of all their years of this togetherness, Éowyn had tried to do for Hild what Hild did for her. But Hild had gently but firmly pushed her hand away. “Lady, you are my Queen. It is for me to serve. But know that I take my pleasure easily only when I give you pleasure.”

No time for Éowyn to think of that now, only to let the waves of heat build and wash through her, build and wash through her, drawing shuddering gasp after shuddering gasp from her, until suddenly all was fire or falling or pleasure rushing through her, tumbling her over and over like plunging into the waters of the Snowbourn in a full flood in springtime.

She came back to herself, lying flat on her back, weak as the first rays of the morning sun, every part of her shaking as her breathing steadied. Hild’s lips were still on her, gentling her, and bringing her down. And then Hild was pulling away and Éowyn heard her cry out with her own release.

Éowyn managed to lever herself up on her elbows. She peered down along her sated body to where Hild knelt with her head bowed, panting hard. “That was indeed a most excellent cure, my Lady,” Éowyn acknowledged. “Your Queen thanks you.”

“Happy to serve, Your Grace.” Hild’s voice was hoarse. She gave a choked laugh. “I regret that, when the matter of a suitable husband is settled at last, my service will no longer be required.”

Éowyn hastily pushed herself upright and leaned forwards. She put a finger under Hild’s chin and tipped her face upwards. “Husbands are for the getting of heirs,” she pointed out. She bent and lightly brushed her lips against Hild’s. “But I will always have need of my Lady Hild for the getting of pleasure.”


End file.
